Is Living Alone Right For You?

• Article by Landon Mills
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• May 11, 2012
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What’s that? Your roommate ruined living with other people for you? That’s understandable – Dorm room meth labs can have that effect on some people. But before you go Kevin McCallister on us, I’d first like to make sure you understand that living in solitude is not all naked fun and masturbatory games. And as an expert on the unaccompanied lifestyle, I feel as though it is my obligation to inform you that naked fun and masturbatory games are only half a little more than two-thirds of what ‘going solo’ is all about.

If you’re still considering plunging genitals-deep into lonesome living, let me first start by busting the all-time greatest assumption of single-livers: the myth that we walk around naked so much we consider it a hobby. I’ll admit that for the first three months of living alone, there will be moments where you’ll become so accustomed to living in a way that can only be described by the adjective “fleshy”. But I simply refuse to sit here and make the claim that the best part about living alone is getting to walk around naked all the time. Because it’s not. After three months it’s not even on the list, and you start to gross yourself out. You’ll eventually come to the realization that your genitals “aren’t the genitals you’re looking for” and before you know it, underwear will suddenly seem… necessary.

Living alone also makes you lethargic; you’re going to accomplish absolutely nothing that you set out to do. Prepare to beat your streak of longest number of consecutive days without having showered... more than once. You’ll also realize that eating over the sink means fewer dishes to wash later on. Most importantly, though, you’re probably unaware of the motivational tool your roommate actually was. Those few hours you had to work on homework while he laid passed out in his own vomit will become those eight hours every night that you keep telling yourself you should be studying as you opt for one more episode of Mad Men, fifteen times. Your true resiliency against depression will be tested when you decide to stay in for a couple (or four) weekends in a row. Social ineptitude will settle in, and you’ll be forced to study the standard street jive of your young-folked peers in order to comfortably re-acclimate yourself back into their psychedelic times. Evidently, one thing you can do to combat the side effects of social ineptitude is to get a couple of cats. If you’re allergic to cats then just buy a guitar, put it in a corner, and don’t touch it for as long as you’re living alone.

Everyone thinks people who live alone are extremely creepy. There’s no real argument for that one. You will turn into a creeper. And I’m not talking about this new watered-down definition of what’s now called a “Facebook creeper.” I’m talking about the type of creeper that will sit and study his or her window blinds and develop a theory as to which corner of the blinds is best to peek out in order to avoid losing the one-way game of peek-a-boo with the neighbors.

If you’re currently single and expecting to reel chicks in with the fact that you always have the apartment all to yourself, just punch yourself in the temple real quick. Remember what I said about evolving into a creeper? Well, you’re well on your way if this is the type of logic that you’re going to bring to the small, one-person table. To a chick, this is essentially the equivalent to laying a trail of candy through the dark alley and into the back seat of your panel van.

Congratulations! You’re pathetic and lonely enough to have persevered through my attempts to scare you away from foolishly signing a yearlong lease of friendlessness! Now every single item inside your fridge is 100% yours. Grocery shopping will be fucking awesome. Food labels that read “will feed six to ten people” are single-living-person for “will feed my fat ass for at least three days.”